He’ll swindle. No compassion.
His head barely has hair.
Only hair lies on his face
forming a pencil-thin goatee,
round a coinslot mouth placed,
within a head bald, round and shiny.
He’ll call a cab to go three blocks
though on the phone, he assures, It’s far.
or he’ll flipflop with no socks
all the way to Southie’s Junction bar.
He speaks publicly with a silver tongue
ever the taskmaster on the move
Shrewd for someone 30 years young,
A businessman with something to prove.
He’s Christian Bousier.
“Hi, my name is Chris,” he’ll say
He’ll look you in the face,
whilst your precious gold flies away.
“You want to learn eBay?
$49.95 per day!
Oh… you want a refund?
I’ll pay you on Tuesday.”
… Happy 30th Birthday, Bowse.